Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Torn: The Cry for Help of a Religious University Student

I have recently finished, besha'ah tovah, my requirements for a BA in Land of Israel Studies. I am now continuing my studies in an interdisciplinary graduate program at Bar-Ilan. Although I am still quite busy and sometimes feel overwhelmed with work, I will continue to blog as much as possible anyway.
When I started this blog two years ago, I had two main reasons - hasbara (defending Israel) and personal catharsis. While my need to debunk libels against Israel has waxed and waned over the years, my need for some outlet to pour out my thoughts and musings on life, especially university life, has only increased. The dillemas and questions I've faced have not gone away - they have only increased in intensity, and I feel that if I do not "spill my guts" somewhere, I will explode. Although I will not give up other aspects of this blog (such as the "Research Suggestions" section), I will be spending more time wrestling with questions rather than debunking certain falsehood.
Perhaps the most fundamental tension that I feel is that of a religious Jew, commanded to believe and follow the Law of God, studying in a University, an institution where nothing is sacred save the right to question and criticise. True, I study at Bar-Ilan University, where ostensibly the tension should not be as great as avowedly secular or even anti-religious universities elsewhere. Judaism, although not preached as dogma, is certainly treated with respect and deferrence at Bar-Ilan - historical analysis, and critique, of Jews and Judaism throughout the ages is done more often with a surgeon's knife rather than a machete.
Even when it comes to politics we are something of an anomoly. Although there are certainly plenty of left-wingers at Bar-Ilan, we have no Ilan Pappes or Zeev Sternhalls. Dr. Menahem Klein is the exception that proves the general rule, a curiosity if you will. You will notice that on many of the various moonbat petitions supporting refusal to serve in "the territories" or in favour of the Palestinians, people from Bar-Ilan are either not represented at all or only a handful of people are signatories.
All this is true, and yet Bar-Ilan University is still just that - a University, a part of the scholarly world. We still have to read articles and discuss views of Judaism and faith-involved issues (such as the accuracy of the Rabinnic sources in the Second Temple period; analysis of archaeology that is not in line with the accepted biblical historiography and so on). It is impossible to be an honest student or scholar without hearing and having to seriously argue with scholarly opinions and analysis that are simply anathema for a believing Jew.
It often feels that even when our beliefs and lifestyle are not challenged, they are ridiculed. How many times have the loaded, negative terms - "fundamentalism", "conservativism" (in the sense of "not liberal", not the religious meaning) and other such verbal daggers been bandied about, with the reckless abandon of a street demagogue, in "respectable" scholarly forums? I often feel that a religious Jewish scholar feels a need to have to apologize for not being a secular liberal humanist, has to apologize for his/her existence. How can I live, function, grow in such a world as a Jew?
One answer would be that it is impossible. The Gordian Knot must be cut - it is either the university or the kollel/yeshiva. I remember an exchange between a student and a teacher, whom I respect tremendously, over the issue of scholalrly opinion on the Chumash, which of course does not hold that it was written by God through Moses. The teacher ended the argument that, if you don't want to deal with these questions, then don't go to university.
I wish I had that option, but I don't. Ever since I was a child, I was fascinated with learning new things, gaining new knowledge. At first I tended towards "hard science", later I caught the "history bug". People who know me can tell you that I read an enourmous amount of non-fictional books on every subject in history, at a speed that has earned me the monicker of bola'at sefarim (literally, swallower of books, a play-on words for the hebrew term for bookworm - tola'at sefarim). I check academic publishers' websites on a daily basis to see if there's anything new and exciting to read.
Even when I was at yeshiva, my Ram suggested to me that I spend at least some time studying university courses. Although he didn't intend it, I felt and still feel this to have been a rejection. In the end, he was right, though - I wasn't capable of studying at yeshiva 24/7, and I gravitated towards university and academic study. For me, learning, researching and especially writing are for me no less critical than food and sleep. To read a particularly well-written piece; to write a well-written article or blog-post, these things are my psychological oxygen. To deny myself that would be equivalent to forbidding a pianist to touch a piano or a basketball player from shooting hoops.
I'm not sure who to turn to for help, either. Plenty has been said and written about how Judaism deals with "hard sciences" such as physics or biology. I am not aware of anything even remotely comparable dealing with Judaism's attitude towards the "soft sciences" of the humanities and the social sciences. I am sure that each religious scholar now in the field has developed his/her individual approach to the problem, but this is of no help to newcomers such as myself. Also of no help is the suspicious and often negative attitude of those who might render assistance - the yeshiva world - to the world of scholarship, known derisively as 'mehkar'.
I feel alone, exposed to the elements with no guide and no-one to hold my hand. I have tried to duck this feeling, to ignore it or deny it. Now it stares me in the face, filling me with terror and dread.
God give me strength to get through this. גם כי אלך בגיא צלמוות לא אירא רע כי אתה עמדי

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Perhaps you could speak with Prof. Shalom Carmy and Prof. Yaakov Elman at YU.

Anonymous said...

I can certainly sympathize with you.